


When It All Falls Down

by The_Nightingale_Sings



Category: James Bond (Movies), James Bond - Fandom, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Nightingale_Sings/pseuds/The_Nightingale_Sings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is the closest thing James Bond will ever have to a friend. And maybe, just maybe, it could be a little more</p>
            </blockquote>





	When It All Falls Down

                Another sun rose beneath a thick layer of fog that was uniquely native to London. It was a cold and brisk morning, and the blonde haired man nestled under the covers had no intention of waking up that early. He had just finished an intense mission overseas, resulting in crossing 4 times zones in 5 hours, chasing down a bullet train in his classic Aston Martin, and firing some semi-automatic weapons from the sunroof of a moving SUV. Just another week in the eventful life of MI6 Agent James Bond.

His alarm clock went off at 5:45am sharp, a shrill beep signaling him that yet another day was about to begin. He pounded the top of the clock, causing the snooze button to stick to itself. He rolled over, hoping to find another warm body, like he had next to him in his dream, but there was no one. Bond sorely missed having that other half in his life; that one person to share your day with, to wake up to in the morning. Sure he had slept with lots of women over the years, but that wasn’t the same. Though he’d never admit it, James Bond wanted somebody to settle down with. He sighed and rolled face first into his pillow, letting the fabric mold around his face.

 

“007, are you up yet?” a perky voice chirped through the alarm clock.

“What do you want, Q” Bond groaned. How anybody could have that much energy at this hour was beyond him at the moment. It made him wish he was 23 again.

“Tsk tsk, Bond. You really should get up on time, you know. It’s not favorable to keep M waiting.”

“Q it’s six am. I don’t have an appointment until 9.”

“I do hope you realize, Bond, that it’s now 8:30. I’ve been trying to get you all morning, but you weren’t answering your phone.”

“So you hack into my alarm clock?”

“It worked didn’t it?”

“Oh shut it”

“If you come in now, I’ll have a cup of coffee waiting for you to take with you”

“So we’ve gotten to bribery now, eh?” Bond chuckled, sitting up and stretching.

“Hey, what’s MI6 better at? Just be here within the hour, okay?”

“Got it.”

“Oh and Bond –” Bond never got to hear what Q had to say because he had pulled the plug from the wall socket.

Bond liked Q. He was young, too young, he thought, to have such a high position, but he knew what he was doing and that’s all Bond cared about. His life was in Q’s hands, and after Silva’s attack on the former M, he knew that he had to keep his friends close. Now he had no one. Though he never said, M was like a mother to him. His mother and father died when he was very young, and he learned how to handle not having anybody close to him. Having Q was something he was still getting used to. Everybody he ever cared about ended up dead in one way or another, and he didn’t want to have Q’s blood on his hands. Not yet anyways, the boy was too young.

“Well look who’s here” Q smiled as Bond walked in. “It’s about time.”

“Coffee?”

“As I promised.” Q said, handing Bond a warm cup of black coffee with half a packet of sugar, just the way he liked it.

“Thank you, Q.” Bond nodded.

“Y’know, as a well-respected Englishman, I’d take you for a tea drinker.”

“I am. I just prefer coffee when I am going to be debriefed.”

“So I see. Well, you’re in luck. M got caught up in town hall and had to reschedule for 3.”

“And this was just announced?”

“No I knew about this for some time now.”

“And you didn’t tell me this, why, exactly?” Bond asked, slightly peeved, slightly amused.

“Because.” Q grinned, excitement building up inside him. “I’ve got some new toys to show you.” Q loved showing off to Bond. He greatly admired the agent, and felt honored to be assigned to him. Knowing that the life of MI6’s best agent was in his hands was a daunting thought, so to ease the pressure, he loved designing little gadgets for Bond that he hoped he would like.

The two walked down to the research and development sector of the building, steps almost in sync with each other’s.

“Right then. Remember the nine millimeter I gave you?”

“The one that only I could shoot?”

“Uh-huh. Well, I’ve amped up a few heavier pistols for you, nothing major, just some .45 cals.” Q pointed to a few guns that were snug in cases on the wall. “And you’ll love this”

Bond chuckled. The excitement Q got when showing off his inventions to Bond reminded him of the puppies Kincade trained as hunting dogs when he was a child. They’d run up to Kincade with whatever small animal they’d caught that day, eyes wider than the moon, tail wagging faster than a metronome and wait for praise from Kincade. The twinkle in Q’s eyes was something Bond couldn’t help but smile at.

“Here.” Q grinned, holding up what seemed to be a sock.

“Oh brilliant. My Quartermaster has done my laundry.” Bond smirked. He knew there was some value to whatever Q had created, but he loved teasing the little guy. He was only 10 or 15 years Q’s senior, but that didn’t matter to Bond.

 

“You wish. That’s one detail I’ll stay out of.” Q smirked right back. He knew Bond loved bantering with him; it was probably his way of relieving the stress from the job.MI6 could be tough on a person’s soul. “These not only have a tracking device, but they check your pulse and send the appropriate response unit automatically. If you’re hurt – or dead- they’ll send EMTs or rescue.”

“That can come in handy.”

“No shit, Sherlock” Q rolled his eyes playfully. Bond chuckled, the lines by his eyes crinkled up. “Not exactly Christmas, I know but-”

“It’ll come in handy.” Bond said, remembering their very first encounter.

“I should hope so.” Q smiled and checked his watch. “It’s 11:24. You usually slip out for lunch now.”

“Stalking me, Q?”

“I prefer to call it learning your habits. Am I safe to assume you’re leaving?”

“Would you care to join me?”

“Are you asking me on a date, Mister Bond?” Q grinned in a teasing manner.

“Colleagues , dear Q.” Bond stated, trying hard not to smile. There was something in him that did want to ask Q on a date, he was just so fascinated by the young Quartermaster. But that would not only be strictly unprofessional, but it would be weird as well, considering the age gap. Q didn’t even look the legal age, even though he was, and Bond could easily pass for his father.

“I accept. I’ll have no other escape from this box otherwise.”

“Glad I could be of assistance. Now,” Bond said, straightening his jacket. “Shall we?”

“Yes we shall.” Q smiled, grabbing a brown cardigan from the back of his chair.

“That’s all you’re wearing?”

“Is there a problem?”

“It’s cold out.”

“Oh so you’re my mother now?” Q grinned.

“I can’t have my Quartermaster getting sick and missing a day, which could potentially end my life.” Bond sighed dramatically. Bond was never one to be playful, but he felt like he could relax a bit more around Q. Maybe it was his youthful energy, or maybe something else.

“Fine then.” Q added, grabbing a scarf. “Better?”

“Much.” And with that, they were off to lunch.

“What a lovely little place. Very quaint.”

“Oh hush.”

“Right, I forgot you were such a man’s man.” Q grinned. They entered the pub and found a booth towards the back.

“Ah, James.” A friendly looking man smiled, coming over to the booth. “The usual, I presume.”

“Yes, thank you, Rich.”

“And for you, kid?”

“Uh just crisps and a scotch for me thanks.” Q smiled.

“You got ID, kid?” Rich asked with a skeptical look on his face.

“Yep. “ Q said, handing over his ID.

“And bring him a sandwich. He’s too skinny. I can’t have the wind snapping my Quartermaster in half now, can I?” Bond smirked as Rich went off.

“Very funny, Bond.” Q sighed, reaching for his ID. Bond was quicker than him and picked it up.

“Of course.” Bond chuckled.

“What now?”

“Of course your name is Quentin.”

“Is that a problem, 007?”

“No. Just amusing.” Bond smirked.

“Glad to make your day just that little bit brighter.”

The food came, along with their drinks.

“Enjoy.” Rich smiled.

“So, Quentin” Bond said as he took a sip from his martini which was shaken, not stirred, the way he always liked it.

“Yes, James?” Quentin smiled. He liked playing with Bond. He thought it eased the stress of the job. Plus, James Bond’s smiled, though very rare in its true form, was a wonderful thing to incite.

“I didn’t take you to be a Scotch man.”

“What’dya take me for then? A GingerAle kid?”

“Something like that. Now eat. I can’t have you blowing away in the next gust of wind.” Bond said, pushing the plate towards Quentin.

“Why thank you for your concern, mumsy dearest.”

“You’re very welcome darling.” Bond smirked. Quentin laughed and took a bite. Not too shabby for a pub.

“So M won’t be back till three, yes?”

“Yessir.”

“Hm. I don’t suppose you have any more toys to show me then.”

“Well, there is one thing.”

“Oh?”

“It’s still in development but I need measurements and ratings, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all. Anything to avoid being stuck behind a desk for three more hours.”

“Great.” Quentin smiled. He had a new prototype of a bulletproof vest that was slimmer and lighter than anything ever before, but he needed a measurement of Bond’s chest.

The two men walked back to HQ and down into Q’s lab.

“Take off your shirt please.” Q said while going into the back to get materials.

“And to think you haven’t even asked me to dinner yet.” Bond grinned, taking his jacket off. Q came back just as Bond was taking off his shirt, and though he would never ever admit it, Q’s heartbeat increased a lot more than it should have.

“Maybe if you cooperate” Q smirked.

“What are you doing with that?”

“Simple measurements. Also I need to check your pulse.”

“Ooh you’re all hands aren’t you.” Bond cooed, sitting down as Q layered the fabric over his chest. James Bond had a way of making every word that came out of his mouth seductive; no wonder he was such a hit with the ladies. They’ve been partnered for just about two years now, so Q was used to Bond’s witty remarks.

Q moved his fingers across Bond’s chest, feeling the muscles and rough skin. He placed a sensor over Bond’s heart, listening and recording the beats. Little did he notice the way Bond’s pupils dilated or how his pulse quickened when Q made contact with his worn out skin. Q was aware of the increase in heart rate, but he was sure it was just from stress. He shook any thoughts form his mind and set back to work. He moved to the front of Bond, his leg standing in between Bond’s. Their thighs gently touched, shooting a tingling sensation up Q’s leg, putting a small smile on his face. This was all accidentally of course, at least that’s what Q planned to tell people if this little encounter were ever to see the light of day. Which it wouldn’t.

Bond’s skin was warm under his fingers; the scars felt smooth and tender. There were so man y scars, so many bullet holes and stab wounds. Those scars were not just physical; they each carried a story with emotional trauma with them. Q wanted nothing more than to heal them, make them disappear and lift the baggage from Bond’s shoulders. Q loved his agent. Bond trusted him with his life, and that was something he didn’t take lightly. If anything happened to his 00, Q wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

His fingers went curiously over a fresh scar, still scabbed and red. Bond winced and Q drew back.

“Sorry.” Q mumbled, cheeks flushing.

“Don’t be. It felt, better.” Bond said, struggling for the right word.

“Oh?” Q asked, a hint of disbelief in his tone.

“Mmhm. You have a uh, soothing touch.”

Q looked at Bond, trying to detect any hint of sarcasm or mockery, yet there was none. This was the rare, kind and vulnerable side of James bond that only two people have seen. Q was one of those people.

Q was Bond’s only friend. The only friend he had who he could count on for comfort. He was truly thankful for him. Q was always there when Bond needed somebody to call, on or off missions. The poor kid never slept. Bond never told anybody, but he felt more comfortable around Q than he has with anybody. Quentin brought James that sense of companionship and loyalty that keeps him grounded. But recently, Bond has noticed that he’s begun to develop feelings for Q that he didn’t think was possible in him. Q was the only person who knew all of his drunken secrets. Except the former M, of course.

Q finished and rolled up the materials.

“Thanks, James. The prototype should be done by the end of the year.”

“Anytime, Quentin.” He started putting his shirt back on when his phone rang.

“It’s M.” Q said, glancing at the screen.

“Damn.” Bond sighed, picking it up. “Bond speaking.”

“Well yes I should hope so. I’m going to be back early. Meet me in my office in ten minutes.” And with a click, M was gone.

“Well, he’s early. I’ll see you later.”

“Very well then.” Q smiled as Bond made his way up the stairs and out of sight.

Q’s clock beeped softly, telling him it was three in the morning. He knew he should sleep, but he just couldn’t. His encounter with Bond kept playing through his head. Suddenly his phone rang.

“Q”

“Please talk me out of getting plastered and sinking a bullet through my skull.”

“Bond what happened?”

“I’m being shipped out. Again. I didn’t finish the job. M practically ripped me a new one.” Bond laughed bitterly. Q heard the sound of a glass breaking and muffled curses on the other end.

“James Bond don’t you dare take another sip.” Q said, concern filling his voice. He had talked James off the ledge before, and he hoped this time would work as well. He grabbed his scarf and headed out the door. Less than twenty minutes later, he was at Bond’s flat. Q let himself him because he had made a copy of Bond’s key for official reasons. Well, when he says official he means, well, nevermind that. When he walked in, he found Bond lying face down in his bed.

“Oh god.” Q murmured, rushing to Bond’s room. “James?” There was a muffled response and Q breathed a sigh of relief. “Jesus, Bond.” Q muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I hate this job.”

“I know. I know.”

“But there’s no way out of it. I missed my golden opportunity when Eve shot me. I’m stuck here forever. Unless” Bond’s hand clumsily reached for his gun, but Q was quicker.

“James Bond don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Q I can’t keep this up.”

“Just sleep it off. Just for tonight. We can talk about it when you’re not- hey! What are you doing!?” Q asked as he felt hands snake around his lower waist. “Bond you are definitely drunk.”

“I’m actually not. I dropped my glass then you yelled at me so I just flopped down here.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“You’re comforting, Quentin. I find great comfort in you.”

“James I-”

“Shh. You want me to sleep? Join me.”

“Bond you are so very drunk and I-”

“I’m not drunk, you twit. Okay fine. Only a little. Now are you going to join me or not?”

Q was shocked. James Bond was inviting him to bed. How often does that happen?

“But I’m”

“Yes, yes I know. You’re not only 16 years my junior you’re also my Quartermaster and blah blah blah. Look, it’s just for the night and”

“I’m not arguing with you, Bond.” Q said, taking off his scarf and lying down on his back next to Bond. His nerves were all over the place, but he kept his cool.

“I don’t know if I can get through this.” James said after a long period of comforting silence.

“I know you, James, and you can. I know you carry a lot of baggage with you but you can make it.”

“Are you sure? What if I were to just quit MI6 and go live out in the country somewhere.”

“You don’t seem like the quiet country type.”

“Says the gingerale kid.” Bond chuckled. Q laughed, noticing Bond getting sleepy.

“You should sleep. We both have to be in tomorrow and it’s already four am.”

“Don’t remind me.” Bond yawned, his head getting dangerously close to Q’s shoulder. Q yawned as well and saw that Bond’s head had made a home on his shoulder. He didn’t mind. He took off his glasses, placed them on the nightstand, and rested his head on top of Bond’s before closing his eyes for the night.

Q woke up to an annoying piercing sound that sounded like a broken alarm clock. He tried to roll over to stop it, but found there were two strong, warm arms around him.

“Nooo. James murmured.

“Bond, your clock is broken and it’s killing my ears.”

“Just shoot it.”

“I have a feeling you have in the past.”

“Guilty as charged.”  Bond said, snuggling up to Q’s back and resting his chin on Q’s shoulder.

“As comfortable as this is, I don’t think we should be doing this. It’s highly unethical and”

“We didn’t do anything, did we?”

“No but”

“No buts, Q. As far as anybody is concerned, you’re helping me get over a depressed hangover. Which you are.”

“True. But”

“Ah, ah, ah. No buts, remember?”

“But work, Bond. We have to go in at some point.”

“I have a day to prep for my mission back out. How I spend it is my business.”

“You just don’t want me to leave, do you?” Q smiled. It was quite flattering actually.

“You guessed it. I need my Quartermaster’s help for a very, very important project.”

“And what would that be?”

“Figuring out which sleeping position is the most comfortable with two people.”

“Are you sure you’re not still drunk?”

“Why do you keep insisting that?”

“Well, because” Q didn’t know how to word it correctly. “Because you’re James Bond, top MI6 agent, 00 division, infamous womanizer, suave, charming, and all around classy man.”

“Well yes that is all true. But I am also one who enjoys the company of just one person.”

“But me?”

“Quentin, you’ve been my Q for almost two years now. You know me inside and out, you know my demons, you know my baggage, and yet you put up with me. You’re a genius, witty, fast paced guy, who, I must say is incredibly handsome.  So yes, you twit. You.”

Q was speechless. Bond liked him. No, James Bond was in love with him.

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Is this too much? I’m sorry, hangovers tend to cause previous drunken ramblings to continue and then-” Bond was cut off by Q gently placing his lips over his own, Q’s young and soft skin feeling fresh and new over Bond’s old and leathery.

“Sorry. That had to get out of my system.” Q chuckled, staring at Bond’s heather grey t-shirt rather than his eyes.

“I rather liked that, Quentin.” Bond smiled, the crinkles by his eyes looking happier and youthful.

“Now about that position.”


End file.
